


On Golden Wings

by Aranwion



Category: Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey, Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2014-02-27
Packaged: 2018-01-01 11:35:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1044355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aranwion/pseuds/Aranwion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yancy Becket lost something, a long time ago, and as a result he lost almost everything. All he has left is Raleigh, and now that Raleigh has gone and Impressed a bronze dragon, well. What do you need an overprotective big brother for when you have a dragon the size of a house watching your back?<br/>As Yancy Becket's life is falling apart he gets an unprecedented second chance, what was lost will be found and life in Benden Weyr will never be the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Hatching

**Author's Note:**

> Things You Should Know About Pern:  
> -There are dragons. They literally breath fire.  
> -Said dragons breathe fire to protect Pern from Thread, a creepy-ass space organism that every two hundred years or so starts to fall into Pern's atmosphere. It wakes up and proceeds to devour anything and everything that isn't stone or metal. Think piranhas on crack. The safest way to kill it is to burn it in the air.  
> -Said fire-breathing, Thread-killing dragons are telepathically linked to their rider. Dialogue in italics are a rider speaking to their dragon and vice versa.
> 
> The eventual relationship between Yancy and Raleigh is definitely the focus here, though bits of domesticity between Stacker and Herc and Chuck's awkward flirting will make appearances.
> 
> A/N: To all you lovelies who found this fic in the Pern fandom, I warn you in advance that this is more of a Pacific Rim fic - just, you know, with dragons. 'Cause dragons are cool. I play fast and loose with a bunch of Pern's cannon. Now, if I haven't scared you off, please take a read! 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!

“Come on, Mako!” Yancy called, stopping for a breath, letting Mako catch up. Mako laughed brightly as she grabbed his hand and they ran, side-by-side, through the warren of tunnels that riddled the Weyr. The glows in the tunnels were bright and new; as Headman Tendo said, “It was better to go through a few more glows than have some fool weyrling slip and break a leg trying to get a peek at those eggs.”

Yancy slipped through a narrow opening onto the heated sand of the Hatching Grounds, Mako right behind him. They grinned at each other for a moment before dashing across the sands, careful to keep a healthy distance between themselves and the hardened eggs – and the overprotective Queen hovering over them.

The stands were filling up fast and Yancy and Mako made a dash for the front tier; after all, this wasn’t just any Hatching, this time Raleigh would be standing on the sands as a _Candidate_ , waiting for the chance to Impress one of the tiny dragonets. Yancy gave Mako a boost up on to the structure, looking up as a rush of wings and wind filled the cavern. Yancy hauled himself up next to Mako as the dragons of the Weyr streamed in; perching on the stony shelves and ledges encircling the upper part of the cavern, as eager as the humans to witness the awe-inspiring event of Impression. Silence fell in the large cavern as the Candidates were led onto the sands to stand in a loose semi-circle around the rocking, shifting eggs; Yancy and Mako crept as quietly as possible to the end of the bleachers closest to the Candidates.

Glancing around, Yancy noticed that a certain junior queen rider from Fort Weyr was absent and he couldn’t help but smirk a little. Yancy hadn’t heard it himself, but rumour said that when the Fort riders were paying their respects to the Weyrleader a junior goldrider had exclaimed over the size of the clutch, saying something along the lines of “Over 60 eggs, so many for such an old queen!”. Word had spread through the Weyr like wildfire and Yancy, working in the kitchens that day, hadn’t said a word when Tendo’s assistant quietly arranged for the Fort riders to receive the driest, least-desirable cuts of meat at dinner. When she’d caught him watching he’d merely smiled, getting one of her sharp nods of approval in return. After all, Benden supported their own, and for all that he and Raleigh were born elsewhere, Benden Weyr had always felt like home.

Besides, everyone knew (or should know, in Yancy’s opinion) that the size of the clutch depended on more than just the youth of the queen and the vigor of the mating flight. This was the tenth consecutive time that bronze Lucky had flown golden Tango and from Yancy’s perch on one of the upper balconies the flight had seemed relaxed, languid, almost…romantic. And if Lucky had flitted around the Weyr looking as smug as a dragon possibly could after Tango had finished laying, well, there _were_ 64 eggs in that clutch. On the other hand, a clutch that size meant that Benden had had to Search not only their Lower Caverns and every one of their own holds, but those of Fort to find enough appropriately aged candidates for Impression.

Now, nearly a hundred adolescent boys and girls stood, waiting, all wearing the traditional white robes. Despite the horde Yancy had no trouble picking out Raleigh’s slight form, his blond mop of hair messy and far too adorable for Yancy to insist he get it cut just yet. Beside him Mako leaned on his shoulder and started waving madly, nearly bouncing in her seat.

“Hi Raleigh! Raleigh, we’re here!” she called, garnering some indulgent chuckling from the adults behind them. Letting Mako’s excitement infect him he started waving too, grinning when Raleigh started waving madly back. When a sharp **_crack_** split the air all the Candidates jumped and Yancy laughed as Raleigh tried to turn around so fast he almost fell on his ass. Mako giggled with him and wrapped her small hands around his, staring intently at the mass of whispering Candidates. Yancy smiled at her and leaned back, getting comfortable, settling in for a bit of a wait as a chorus of _cracks_ and _snaps_ filled the cave. Mako looked at him askance as he tugged her hands into his lap.

“The cracking is just the beginning, it could all happen in the next few hours, or those poor guys could still be standing there when it gets dark,” he explained. “It’ll probably take five or six hours altogether.” Mako nodded, relaxing her grip a bit.

“We will stay until Raleigh Impresses, though?” she asked earnestly, the serious expression on her small face making her look even younger, somehow, and Yancy couldn’t help but hug her.

“’Course we will, Mako.” He assured her, and together they settled in to wait.

***

An hour later the candidates were looking uncomfortable, sweating and shifting from one foot to the other on the hot sand and Yancy was glad he wasn’t down there with those poor kids. At least, mostly. A small, strange part of him longed for the discomfort, the deep ache of standing for too long, the soles of his feet parched and sore…Yancy focused on Mako’s fingers twined with his own as she dozed on his shoulder and tried to shake off the disquieting thoughts. He didn’t remember much of his early childhood, but he knew he and Raleigh were Holders, not Weyrfolk. He knew it was just…wishful thinking, remnants of a dream, maybe; after all, what kid didn’t dream of Impressing a dragon, fighting Thread?

Yancy leaned his cheek on Mako’s soft hair and sighed a little. In any case, it didn’t matter, this was Raleigh’s day. Suddenly a shout went up among the Candidates and Yancy sat up, shaking Mako gently.

“Mako, wake up.”

Bolting upright she asked “Now? Is it time?”

Yancy didn’t need to answer as the hungry bugle of a newly hatched dragon filled the air, answered by a deep-throated humming from the adult dragons. Mako gasped as the Candidates parted, save for one, a girl who opened her arms to welcome the mewling little green as it shook off the last remnants of its shell. There wasn’t much time to focus on the girl’s beaming face because a pair of browns broke free at nearly the same time, bee-lining for the Gage twins. Mako clapped her hands in glee - she knew the boys better than he did, but they were so in sync he wasn’t surprised they Impressed at almost exactly the same moment, identical stunned expressions on their faces.

The first few infatuated fledgling pairs were making their way off the sands, heading, Yancy knew, to the weyrling barracks in the Bowl, when he heard a loud, plaintive cry and Yancy just _knew_ that this was Raleigh’s dragon. _This_ was the creature that would be with his baby brother every moment of every day for the rest of his life. Yancy shoved down the wave of sadness that cut through him like a knife, threatening to fill him up and rip him apart.

He was happy, he really was, as he watched the shining bronze, already so big, stumble over to his brother and head-butt him gently, mewling delightedly. He was so proud of Raleigh in that moment, as his little brother wrapped his arms around as much of his dragon as he could wearing the biggest smile Yancy had ever seen on his face. Mako positively squealed and suddenly Raleigh looked up at them.

Bouncing on the balls of his feet Raleigh shouted across the sand. _“Yancy! Mako! He says his name is Gipsy!”_ Mako leapt up, racing off toward the Bowl to meet them only when Yancy promised he was right behind her, but he just sat, for a minute. He truly was happy for Rals, but there was an aching, empty hole inside him that became a throbbing, open wound every time he witnessed a Hatching. He wasn’t sure why he kept doing this, except that he _had_ to do this. It didn’t matter that more of his heart, mind, _soul_ fell into that jagged chasm with every Impression. After the chunk it had taken today, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to walk onto the Hatching Grounds again, and kicker was that the thought of never seeing a Hatching again hurt just as much as actually seeing one did. Yancy couldn’t put a name to what was wrong with him, but it felt an awful lot like loss.

Scrubbing his hands over his face he grasped for the ragged pieces of his composure, gathered himself together and went to meet the newest member of the Becket clan.

***

Herc Hansen, bronze rider, Weyrleader of Benden, watched the elder Becket leave the cavern, a defeated slump to his broad shoulders. The boy had attended every single Hatching in the Weyr since he’d arrived almost ten years ago, a scared, angry boy of nine Turns desperate to keep his five-year-old brother alive, the haunted, hopeless look in his eyes enough to send shivers down Herc’s spine.

Little Yancy, far too mature for his age, would say only that their Hold ‘belonged’ to Igen Weyr and that they ‘couldn’t go home’. Him and Stacker, they’d already had two little sprogs underfoot; what with Herc bucking tradition and keeping Chuck with him when Angela left and Stacker having adopted Mako after Thread destroyed her family’s Craft Hall, but there’d been no question about them taking in the half-starved Becket brothers.

He and Stacker had sent a query to Igen Weyr – which meant they’d sent a query to _Scott_ – though they’d never received any reply, but it hadn’t seemed all that important, what with making the boys feel at home and helping them settle in to life at the Weyr. Never mind the fact that the Igen Weyrleader may have ignored the message simply because his brother had sent it. After that, what would have been the point in pursuing it? The boys were thriving and happy, fitting in like they’d been born here, making friends of everyone they turned those baby blues on.

Still, Yancy was his fosterling, and Herc didn’t like to see him hurting. _Lucky,_ he called, feeling the midday sun beaming down, drowsy and warm on his skin, courtesy of Lucky.

Lucky’s reply was the slow drawl of a sleepy dragon. _Yes?_

Herc could feel Lucky picking up his distress, felt the massive bronze rouse himself to full alertness. _Lucky, my friend, I think it’s time we pay Scott a little visit._ Lucky’s approval rumbled through their link and Herc figured now was as good a time as any to break in his new flying leathers.


	2. A Warm Dragon on a Cold Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a bit of post-Hatching fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, Raleigh's not as dense as he sometimes seems.

Raleigh was still floating on the high of Impression, sprawled on the outdoor stone balcony of his and Yancy’s new weyr with Gipsy. Well, Yancy’s weyr, mostly. Raleigh would be spending most of his time in the weyrling barracks with the other fledglings for a year or two; Yancy was an Adult-with-a-capital-A now though, so Tendo’d said it was high time he had his own space, and no one questioned that Raleigh and Gipsy would move in here when their time with the weyrlings was finished. So, not their weyr, per say. Not just yet.

Gipsy was sated and happy, a warm, heavy presence in the back of his mind. Raleigh scratched lazily along Gipsy’s eye-ridge, loving the feel of soft, supple hide beneath his cheek.

He could hardly believe any of it, that he’d Impressed a bronze ( _bronze!_ ) dragon, that they had their own weyr; not that he didn’t know, and appreciate, all that Herc and Stacker had done for them, he deeply respected both men and he loved Mako like a little sister. He even liked Chuck, despite their tendency to butt heads, but this – him and Yancy? This felt right, it had always been just the two of them, together. And they would be again, soon. The dragons were hatching bigger and maturing faster since the Pass began seven Turns ago, so it wouldn’t be _that_ long that he had to stay with the weyrlings. At least the Weyrlingmaster had given them tonight, to have time with their families, or just be with their new companions.

Sighing, he tucked himself further into Gipsy’s furnace-like heat against the rapidly cooling evening air. He was excited, eager – it was going to be _amazing_ – but, he was worried too. His bubbling excitement didn’t blind him to his brother’s tells - Yancy thought that Raleigh didn’t see it when he had dark circles under his eyes that meant he hadn’t been sleeping again or the sad, faraway look he sometimes got when he watched Herc and Chuck together. Yancy thought Raleigh _believed_ that it was just the smell of boiling numbweed root that made him sick and grey - and yeah, it was awful, but that didn’t explain the way his jaw clenched, or the tight lines around his eyes or the way his hands shook. Raleigh was 14, not stupid. Yancy had always protected him, ever since, since…well, he didn’t want his brother thinking Gipsy had replaced him in Raleigh’s life.

Which was why, when Yancy’d found him down by the lake in the Bowl alternately feeding and scrubbing a squirming, purring dragonet while Mako looked on, he’d pretended not to see the tired, bruised, _heartbroken_ look in Yancy’s eyes and simply beamed at his amazing, wonderful, idiot of a brother and started chattering about how awesome is was going to be, having their own space, never waking up too hot because Chuck had turned up the heat in the middle of the night _again._

The way Yancy slowly straightened up, stopped looking so lost as Raleigh rambled was absolutely worth the long, considering look he got from Weyrlingmaster Tamsin as she watched over her latest batch of fledglings.

Drowsing, Raleigh startled when a hand carded through his messy hair, scratching along his scalp in the way only one person ever had.

“Yance?” he mumbled around a yawn. Raleigh felt Gipsy crack open his eyes, knowing without looking that the deep jewel-tones were swirling slowly in contentment.

“Yeah, kiddo, it’s just me.” Yancy murmured, settling a heavy quilt over him, tucking it in where he was pressed against Gipsy. The dragon crooned lowly at the tender action and then Gipsy’s voice in his head, so strange but so familiar, stating matter-of-factly _He can stay. He is yours, so he will be mine until she is ready._ The oddness of that tickled Raleigh’s consciousness, but Yancy started to pull away and Raleigh suddenly couldn’t stand for him to get up and go back inside to sleep alone in the silent weyr, not tonight.

Reaching out he snagged Yancy’s wrist, pleading quietly. “No, Yance, stay. Please?”

He could feel Yancy tense, hesitating, but after a long moment he relaxed. With an amused huff he gave in, saying “Sure, Rals, whatever you want.”

Raleigh smiled as Yancy settled in next to him, tucking the quilt around them both, curling close around him the way he did when Raleigh snuck into his bed after a nightmare. He sighed out a quiet “Night, Yancy.”

Yancy whispered “Night, Rals. Love you, kiddo.” Raleigh drifted off to sleep, warmed body and soul.


	3. Hansen Family Values

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a wee snippet that probably should have been part of chapter 2, but it wasn't ready, so you get a mini-chapter. Sorry?

Herc stormed into the weyr, stripping off his riding jacket so roughly he popped a stitch somewhere. Flinging the jacket in the direction of the coat rack, he struggled to rein in the urge to punch something. Behind him, on the outer ledge, Lucky shifted in agitation while Herc fumed. Tail whipping, Lucky informed him that Tango was feeding and he was going to join her; the flocks were looking a little flush. Wishing he could follow the bronze down and vicariously enjoy Lucky ripping apart a few fowl, Herc turned and strode down the short hallway into the weyr proper instead; his shoulders were a tense line, hands curled into loose fists. 

Entering the living area he found Stacker, relaxed, settled into the deep cushions of their couch, two mugs of steaming klah in his weathered hands.

“Went that well, did it?” he asked, holding one of the mugs out to Herc, eyebrow cocked. There was a sardonic twist to his slight smile and Herc exhaled sharply, running his hands through his short hair. He took the offered mug with a tired smile, sitting heavily next to his weyrmate.

“Not even half that,” he answered, taking a sip of the rich, hot drink.

“Scott?” Stacker asked, letting his hand fall to Herc’s thigh, a warm, grounding weight.

Herc huffed out an exasperated laugh. “Who else? Scott – excuse me, _Weyrleader_ Hansen – was as charming as ever.” Stacker chuckled, he knew firsthand Scott’s…eccentricities. Herc shook his head, drained. “Seriously, though, Stacks – something is very wrong there.”

“How do you mean?” Stacker asked, frowning slightly. Herc knew that what he was really asking was _Does this warrant Weyr intervention?_

Herc pursed his lips, thinking. “I can’t explain it, Stacks, but something is _off_. The dragons seemed healthy enough, but the people…” Herc shivered. There was no light, no life in those faces. There was none of the everyday bustle of a healthy Weyr, no children running through the caverns. The whole place felt grey.

“Anyway, Scott threw me out on my arse the moment I brought up the name ‘Becket.’” Stacker was frowning more prominently now, but the Weyrs were traditionally independent and as long as they Weyr was doing its duty and had wings aloft when Thread fell, there was really nothing that could be done.

“What did Lucky find out?” he asked. Herc set his mug aside and put his hand over Stacker’s. Herc knew he was scowling, but didn’t try to smooth his expression.

“That’s what really concerns me, mate. Otachi wouldn’t say a word to him. None of them would.” For a dragon to refuse to speak to another dragon was unheard of, really. For Lucky to be as unsettled as he was disturbed Herc almost as much as the fact of it. Stacker put down his mug as well, setting the freed hand on the back of Herc’s neck.

“We’ll do what we can here, keep an eye on the boys,” he stated, calm and sure. Standing, he twined his fingers through Herc’s and smiled. “Now, love, come to bed. We’ve got fledglings to intimidate in the morning.” Wrapped in his weyrmate’s arms Herc was never more glad that when Heron Hansen had walked out of Benden Weyr all those years ago, son in tow, he’d left with infant Scott instead of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the name of Scott's dragon doesn't tell you how I feel about him, nothing will!


	4. Threadfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thread is falling and Raleigh is out there fighting it and Yancy? Well, he just watched his brother go somewhere he can't follow and isn't handling it well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo, double post!

The first time Raleigh flew Thread Yancy was a mess. That he was flying low, with other new riders, just above the queens’ wing and far below the regular fighting wings made no difference at all; it was still _Thread_. It helped, a little, that he caught Herc surreptitiously checking the fighting straps on Chuck’s big bronze, Striker, no less than three times before Chuck’s exasperated “Dad! _Seriously!?_ ” prompted him to back off. Soon he was vaulting onto Lucky’s back and taking his wing aloft.

Yancy could understand the urge, he’d already checked the straps on Gipsy twice, much to the large beast’s amusement. Watching the wings take off and disappear _between_ left Yancy trembling inside and he was pathetically grateful for Mako’s swift efficiency. Clipboard in hand she snagged his sleeve, steering him toward her enigmatic mentor, Newt, Pern’s only Master Dragonhealer.

“Come,” she said, “we’ve 16 fighting wings in the air and the healers must have enough supplies, but someone left Newt in charge and…” she finished with an exasperated huff and a sweep of her arm toward what should be the well-organised healers’ tables, but, well.

“A mess is somewhat generous, isn’t it?” he suggested, bemused.

Mako snorted. “‘Somewhat’. Not even.” She shoved her clipboard into his hands and took off toward the kitchens, where Newt was flailing wildly and yelling about…fabric? Shaking his head Yancy bent to his task, sorting through jars of salve, bundles of whip-thin reeds and jugs of redwort and oil. Even while he was trying to remember Tendo’s volume usage records for numbweed salve per dragon per Threadfall he found himself glancing upward every few minutes.

Once the healers’ supplies were in good order – even that odd gauzy cloth Newt wanted – and Mako was firmly in charge of the situation (and Newt) Yancy relinquished the clipboard with a tight smile. His neck ached, pain radiating down from the thick scar at the base of his skull. Without the clipboard it was so much more obvious that his hands were shaking and Yancy clenched them at his sides. What was happening up there? He had no doubt that Raleigh and Gipsy were flying well, but were they flying _safe_? Raleigh was only 17 and a cocky little bastard with it and when they got going Gipsy wasn’t much better.

Yancy had never envied his surrogate parents more – Herc was out there with his son, able, at least, to keep in contact with Striker and Stacker had the comfort of knowing Mako was safe in the Weyr.

“Becket!” Tamsin’s parade ground shout startled Yancy out of his darkening thoughts.

“Weyrlingmaster?” he questioned. Tamsin beckoned him over and shoved a new clipboard at him. When he took it she tossed her spiky head in the direction of a group of weyrlings stuffing mesh sacks full of chunks of firestone, another couple handing the filled sacks off to fledglings who would deliver it to riders running low.

“Watch ‘em” she ordered, already stalking off toward the main cavern. Yancy looked at the non-plussed weyrlings, then at the slanted scrawl of Tamsin’s notes. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Alright then,” he muttered under his breath, “let’s do this.” Striding forward Yancy took stock of the piles of firestone and felt his shoulders ratchet tighter when a dragon screamed overhead.

 *

The six-hour Threadfall seemed to take an eternity, time moving sluggishly, grudgingly forward. When the wings began to wink into existence above the Bowl Yancy sighed, the nervous energy that had kept him on his feet draining out of him, leaving him unsteady and shakier than before. He passed off his notes about the firestone use to Tamsin, surprised by the Weyrlingmaster’s understated praise of “Good work, Becket.”

He was more than ready to find Raleigh, a bath and a nap, in that order. His muscles were slowly unwinding, the shivers subsiding. At least, they were until one of the younger fosterlings in the Weyr ran up and grabbed his wrist, tugging. He stood, dumbly, tired mind trying to figure out what the weyrling could possibly want him for now.

Pulling harder, the girl begged. “Mister Yancy, Miss Mako says you must come now!”

Yancy gasped, the adrenaline flooding through him again so fast he stumbled, the world spinning a bit.

 _Raleigh!_ His mind screamed, his brother’s name ricocheting around inside him. He let the girl lead him through the cluster of wounded men and dragons until they neared the tables. Seeing Mako checking Gipsy’s Threadscored shoulder Yancy shook the girl off and ran.

Stopping dead Yancy’s heart thumped in his chest when he saw Raleigh seated just behind Mako, left arm and shoulder swathed in bandages. He leaned forward, reaching out, hand hovering over the dressings. As he sucked in another breath past the lump in his throat he heard Mako’s lilting voice but his blood was pounding in his ears and Raleigh’s name was still taking up all the space inside him and her words were nonsense.

Yancy was distantly aware that he was starting to hyperventilate when Raleigh’s calloused hand on his cheek broke through the fog. With Raleigh’s sky-blue eyes locked with his own Yancy was able to breathe and focus on the soft words reaching him.

“I’m fine, Yance, just fine. It looks a lot worse than it is, I promise.” Letting out a shaky breath Yancy nodded, more reassured by Raleigh’s bright smile than anything else. Yancy smiled weakly back and Raleigh slumped forward into his arms, tucking his head into Yancy’s chest, windblown hair tickling the underside of his chin.

“Good,” Raleigh said, “now hug me, you ass.” Smiling a little wider Yancy wrapped his arms gently around his brother. When Gipsy crooned happily he startled a bit; looking over he saw the big dragon and his best friend wearing almost identical fond expressions. Feeling his cheeks heat Yancy mouthed _Thanks, Mako_ and the girl grinned, gathering up her supplies. With a waggle of her slim fingers she went on her way, calling “You look after him, now!” over her shoulder. Raleigh snorted, still smiling against his chest and Yancy rubbed his cheek on his brother’s snarled hair.

All three of them were dirty, dusty and smelling faintly of phosphorous and Yancy steered them toward the steps that would take them to their weyr. Gipsy didn’t protest and Yancy figured it was because Rals was nearly asleep in his arms; he’d probably fall off if he tried to fly up to the weyr. It took until they were nearly at the top of the stairs for Yancy to realize he didn’t know if Mako had been talking to him, Raleigh or the dragon.

 

*

 

Threadscore _hurt_. In his head Raleigh knew that, but feeling it was another thing altogether. Especially when that pain was echoed back to him from Gipsy. Between the score itself, the searing cold of _between_ and the ash of burnt Thread his whole left arm was throbbing by the time Fall ended and the wings not riding sweep came home.

After Gipsy’s relatively minor scores were taken care of Raleigh’d had to wait his turn, during which he’d heard his fair share of yelling. It did make him smirk a little that Herc only yelled at him _after_ he’d finished yelling at Chuck, though. Then Mako showed up and after checking Gipsy _she_ yelled at him.

“Really, Raleigh? Threadscores on your first flight?” Guiding him to sit on a large boulder she helped him out of his ruined flying jacket, taking a pair of scissors to what was left of the arm of his shirt, careful of the edges of the scores where dried blood had glued the material to his skin.

Raleigh sighed mournfully. “I liked that shirt.” Mako smacked him gently.

“ _Raleigh._ ” She scolded.

“I know, Mako. I do know.” He was sincere, he _did_ know. He knew how deeply the dragons felt the loss of one of their own. He knew, now, in a visceral way, that it wasn’t just his life on the line out there – if he died, Gipsy would go _between_ and Yancy would be alone. So yeah, he knew. Hearing that sincerity in his voice Mako gave him a stern look before nodding, tying off the last of the bandages.

Seeing Yancy come barreling around the rocks he expected more of the same; when his brother skidded to a stop in front of him, hand reaching out but hovering over his bandaged arm his expression was one that could be only be called terror.

Those deep lines of tension that Raleigh hated were creasing the corners of his eyes and he was breathing hard. With the rush of flying Threadfall past Raleigh realized what hell it must have been for Yancy to be stuck on the ground, left behind and unable to be the one keeping him safe. Hearing Gipsy croon out his own distress Raleigh put his hand on Yancy’s cheek, tilting his head up, drawing his eyes from the injuries to Raleigh’s own.

“Hey, look here, at me,” he coaxed, smoothing over the tense lines with his thumb. “I’m fine, Yance, just fine. It looks worse than it is, I promise.” He smiled warmly, relief washing over him when Yancy finally took a deep breath and nodded. Knowing it would reassure his brother he insulted him and demanded a hug, leaning heavily into him with Gipsy rumbling happily as Yancy’s arms settled around him.

A bath, he thought, was in order for both of them, wrinkling his nose at the strong smell of firestone. Gipsy could probably use one too, but he could go swim in the lake; Gipsy informed him that was a _fantastic_ idea, Striker was there and they would swim for a while. Yancy was gently urging him to move and Raleigh let himself be tugged along. He was going to get clean, eat, work out some of the tightness in Yancy’s shoulders - his neck, that scar, always ached when he got tense - and fall into bed. He’d already decided that _his_ bed wouldn’t be the one he fell into. Yancy had much nicer pillows, anyway.


	5. Flying high, falling hard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tango lays a queen egg, Gipsy is really an overgrown puppy and Yancy does not appreciate impromptu flying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't write smut. Like, at all. But then I went and tried anyway...so, sorry?

Yancy let his head fall back against the wall, panting, because _damn_. Mating flights were usually intense, but he’d never felt anything quite like this. When Tango rose the hum of low-level arousal that filled the Weyr was nothing new; a pleasant, spreading warmth, enjoyable but not demanding. That changed the moment Lucky exploded into flight, chasing after her. The other mature bronzes joined the display but it seemed to him that they flew for the sheer joy of it, not with any intention of catching the still-agile queen.

The molten heat that slammed through him when Tango’s brassy bugle filled the Weyr, challenging, took his breath away and nearly knocked him off his feet. A quick glance around the cavern told him he wasn’t the only one feeling it. And, oh, was he feeling it. He found himself suddenly, dizzyingly hard. Head spinning, eyes on the ground, Yancy fled the cavern, making an uncomfortable dash for the weyr. Kicking the door shut he spared barely a moment wondering where Raleigh was before flicking the buttons of his fly open and taking himself in hand. It took only a few firm strokes and a sweet pressure under the head to have him coming hard, head thrown back, because yeah, wow.

Coming down, eyes closed, Yancy wondered what he would have done had Rals been home, sprawled across the couch, watching…Yancy groaned, the thought of Raleigh’s face, his lean body igniting the heat still pounding in his blood and was hard, hot and aching again in no time. Pushing himself off the wall he stumbled into the bedroom, firmly shutting and bolting the door behind him.

Eyeing Raleigh’s bed he stripped quickly before settling back on his own. He might be high on the psychic heat of the flight, but he wasn’t _that_ far gone. Body thrumming Yancy ran a hand down his chest. Scratching lightly, he spread his legs so he could slide his fingers behind his balls and press up, moaning at the _zing_ it sent up his spine. Arching, Yancy grasped his cock, working himself slowly, whimpering happily at the rough, still too-dry drag. When the glide became slick and smooth he dragged his thumb across the head, nail catching. The hot, sharp sting made him gasp, hips jerking.

Moaning harshly he tightened his grip, pressing at the base. He was close, riding the waves, skin flushed and prickling, when he heard the sound of wings echo through the weyr, claws scraping on stone and _oh gods_ that was Raleigh, he was back, he was here and Yancy was burning and it was so, _so_ good. What drove him over the edge, though, was Raleigh’s voice, his hoarse shout of “Yance, you here?” and he was gone, pleasure spiking through him and he had to clench his jaw to muffle his shout.

He lay, panting, hand and chest warm and wet with own release and stared at the ceiling, guilt and shame washing away any hint of afterglow. What he had just done, gods, it was beyond the pale. How in the name of the First Egg could he look his _18 year old brother_ in the eyes now?

“Come on, man, let me in. I need to…change.” The rasp of Raleigh’s voice made his gut burn with lust even while it clenched in humiliation, and a vicious part of him wanted to hunt down whoever’s bed Raleigh’d been in and tear them apart.

He cleared his throat before answering, hoping he didn’t sound as wrecked as he felt. “Yeah, um, just give me a minute.” Sliding off his bed he grabbed his scattered clothes, along with a clean shirt.

Still naked, holding his bundled clothes at his hip to avoid the mess on his stomach, he went to the door and asked quietly “Wait a second, Rals, ok?” He was sure his voice held a note of pleading, but, really, he couldn’t find the energy to care.

When Raleigh responded with an equally quiet “Sure, yeah.” Yancy slid back the bolt and slipped into the bathing room, pulling the floor-to-ceiling curtain tightly closed behind him. Listening to Raleigh open the door gently Yancy sunk into the bathing pool. Standing in the waist-deep water he stepped under the falling stream that constantly replenished the pool, wishing the warm water could wash away this desire as easily as it did the evidence of it.

**

Things had been surprisingly…not awkward in the weeks since Tango’s flight. When Yancy had finally emerged from the bathing room, scrubbed clean and dressed in fresh clothes he found the bedroom empty, but the weyr was filled with Raleigh’s quiet presence. Yancy found him on the outer ledge, scratching Gipsy’s eye ridge, caressing the huge wedge-shaped head. The dragon’s eyes were whirling slowly in contentment and he must have said something because Raleigh turned and looked at him. His brother was smiling shyly and there was an endearing blush staining his cheeks. Yancy smiled back, feeling his own face heat.

Raleigh cleared his throat and asked “Hey, you hungry?”

Yancy rubbed a hand over the prickling skin on the back of his neck and nodded. “Yeah, I could eat,” he answered and just like that they were back to normal. Yancy determinedly shoved all the emotions the flight had evoked into a tiny box in the back of his mind and locked it tight, grateful, for once, that Raleigh’s connection with Gipsy _didn’t_ extend to him.

Since then, while things had been normal between him and Rals, they definitely hadn’t been with Gipsy. The dragon had never objected to the occasional pat on the shoulder or neck from him but lately Gipsy had been actively seeking him out, angling his head in wordless requests for Yancy to scratch his eye ridges.

The other day he’d been knee-deep in sacks of grain, doing inventory in the cool, dry storage caverns when Raleigh had made his stumbling, cursing way through the maze of supplies to appear at Yancy’s left.

“Goddamn, how do you find your way through all this shit?” Raleigh was scowling as he rubbed his shin.

Yancy grinned, making a note on his clipboard. “Practice. What can I do for you, kiddo?” Raleigh’s expression shifted from annoyed to chagrined and Yancy narrowed his eyes. “What?” he demanded.

After a pause, Raleigh answered, not quite looking at him. “Well, Gipsy’s hide is cracking a bit,” Raleigh glanced at him, just long enough to catch his nod. They’d been having extremely hot, dry weather the last couple of weeks and all the dragons were complaining of itchy hides. It was part of the reason Yancy was down here, looking for more of the meadow grass seed pod the healers ground up and used in a soothing ointment.

Shuffling his feet a bit Raleigh continued. “He won’t let me oil his hide unless you help.”

“What?”

“He’s on the lip of the Bowl, up by the Star Stones and won’t come back to the weyr until _you’re_ there.”

Yancy was sure there was something clever he could say to that but all that came out when he opened his mouth was “What?”

With a huff Raleigh grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the hall. “Just, come on. It won’t take long.”

Yancy let his brother lead him out into the hall before asking hesitantly “Are you sure he’s ok?”

Raleigh rolled his eyes and snorted a laugh. “You think _I_ didn’t think of that? Mako says they sometimes get these…notions and you’ve just gotta go with it, you know?” Yancy nodded again, smiling. Even living in a Weyr, surrounded by the enormous beasts, it was easy to forget that a dragon’s mind worked in twists and turns that were very different from their human companions.

At the door of their weyr Raleigh stopped, hand on the knob and looked back at him. “You sure you don’t mind? It really won’t take _that_ long.” His face was so open and earnest that Yancy couldn’t resist ruffling his hair. Laughing at the positively affronted expression Raleigh made Yancy shook his head.

“Naw, kid, it’s fine. I could use a break anyway.” They entered the weyr, Raleigh behind him, to find Gipsy lounging on the stone balcony, looking entirely unconcerned.

“Bastard,” Raleigh muttered as he grabbed the jars of salve and Yancy laughed, deep and full, at the _look_ Gipsy gave his rider, that even to Yancy said _What? **You** were the one being a stubborn ass about it, not me._

The next hour was wonderful, chatting and laughing with his brother, working the cool salve into Gipsy’s warm hide, unhurried and easy in a way they hadn’t been in years. Maybe since Raleigh had Impressed.

After that, each new occurrence just earned him a shrug and a “Sorry, Yance,” from a sheepishly grinning Raleigh and Yancy ribbed him over it, calling Gipsy an over-sized puppy, but he couldn’t deny he was enjoying the uninterrupted time with his brother.

As such, it didn’t seem too out of the ordinary that Gipsy head-butted him gently when he stumbled out onto the ledge, still mostly asleep, wondering fuzzily what had dragged his brother out of bed in the middle of the night. Patting Gipsy absently Yancy waited until Raleigh lost that glazed look riders got when talking to their dragon.

When Raleigh looked at him he asked “What’s up?”

“The eggs are starting to hatch!” was Raleigh’s disgustingly excited, _awake_ , answer.

Trailing Raleigh back to their bedroom Yancy suppressed a yawn and asked “What time is it?”

“Two.” Raleigh said, pants already buttoned, digging through the dresser for a shirt.

_“A.M.?”_ Yancy’s displeasure must have been obvious in his voice because Raleigh, the bastard, laughed, pulling on a thick navy sweater against the pre-dawn chill.

“Come on, Yance, a Hatching waits for no man!”

Yancy snorted and waved vaguely in Raleigh’s direction as he left the room. It was only after he heard muffled wingbeats that he became aware that the weyr had been filled with Gipsy’s bass hum. Sighing, he dressed, mind already turning over the logistics of feeding the Weyr and all their Holder guests breakfast on such short notice, and tried to remember how to breathe around the tight ache building in his chest.

 

 

The midsummer sun was just rising over the Star Stones, yet Yancy was exhausted. While Raleigh’d gone off to rouse the Candidates, along with the other young bronze riders, Yancy had headed for the main cooking cavern. He found Tendo there, just as he expected, barking orders at a gaggle of sleepy-eyed weyrlings. With a nod from Tendo Yancy jumped in, directing a pair of youngsters with armloads of split wood to the two big cooking hearths and gratefully took the mug of klah Tendo offered.

Hours later most of those involved in the Hatching had gotten at least a mug of klah or tea and a bowl of oatmeal – not fancy, but hot and filling. The main topic of discussion in the ever more crowded cavern seemed to be the queen egg – almost all the other eggs had hatched, and while the coveted golden egg rocked and twitched it had yet to crack. Speculation about whether Stacker would be able to maintain his position as Weyrman if the egg didn’t hatch was popular and only served to aggravate Yancy’s already pounding headache. Disgusted at the human penchant for gossip Yancy left the cavern, walking out into the Bowl, massaging his throbbing temples.

The reverent, welcoming hum of the dragons had been a constant in the cavern, alternately soothing and irritating. Yancy breathed deeply, glad to be away from the bone-deep thrum for a moment. When the dusty earth of the Bowl suddenly swirled to life around his feet Yancy looked up, only to find his view blocked by a huge bronze body – and it was getting _closer_. Startled, he took a step back, eyes stinging from the gritty wind. There was a dragon flying straight at him, body blocking out the sun and _holy fuck_ those claws were longer than his _whole arm._ He was paralyzed, mind caught between fight and flight, terror and disbelief like white noise in his brain, as massive bronze paws – Gipsy’s, a distant, rational part of his mind told him – surrounded him and he _shrieked_ when Gipsy beat his powerful wings and lifted him _off the fucking ground!_

His scream cut off abruptly as Gipsy’s grip shifted and Yancy clutched desperately at one of the terrifyingly huge paws holding him, panic locking his muscles tight. Gipsy’s swooping flight left him nauseous and dizzy, adrenaline and fear making his fingers tingle and left his eyes unfocused so he clenched them shut, feeling the wind whip around him, its chill fingers combing through his hair and tugging at his clothes.

Gipsy swooped and the bottom seemed to fall out of his stomach, the unnerving drop making his eyes snap open. Turning his head a fraction Yancy saw a blur of faces over rippling sand – the Hatching Grounds. Gipsy’s sudden backwing rocked his head on his neck, sending a lancing pain through his skull.

“Fuck, Gipsy! What in the – wait, Gipsy, NO!” he _screamed_ as Gipsy _dropped him._ He landed heavily on the hot sand, the air _whooshing_ out of his lungs, head spinning. He could hear loud, confused voices, but his attention was riveted on the gold egg directly in front of him, cracking right down the middle. There were heavy footfalls on the sands, people shouting, coming closer, but Yancy couldn’t pay them any mind, not with that glowing golden head pushing through the jagged crack. Those whirling, opalescent eyes met his and everything disappeared, everything except the little dragon queen, shaking off the remnants of her shell, her _happyhungryjoyful **free**_ mind washing _overunderthrough_ his and he was rocked to his very foundation as the swelling wave of her broke through, swept away, all his walls and he remembered _everything._

_Yancy,_ her happy bugled echoed through the raw empty places inside him, shaking down the last of his defenses. _Yancy, my name is Jaz, and I’m ever so hungry._ Yancy passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is my sorry not sorry moment. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to you all!


	6. Memories in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The immediate aftermath of Impression and the remembrance of things Yancy would rather leave forgotten.

The Hatching was dragging on past midmorning when Raleigh saw Gipsy shake himself slightly and glide gracefully from his perch on the ledge above the sands and out into the sunny bowl of the weyr. Raleigh watched him go, content to sprawl out on the mostly vacant bench. The stands had been emptying out over that last hour, the spectacle of the too-still queen egg having waned in the face of the unseasonably warm day and the mouth-watering aromas wafting out of the kitchen caverns.

Raleigh stayed, though. Something kept him in his seat, something that tugged at his gut, heavy and roiling, and felt like a vigil. He tried to ignore the cold, silent space next to him. Yancy had never missed a Hatching before and Raleigh was feeling unexpectedly bereft without his solid warmth. The dozen eggs left on the sands were all rocking, and Raleigh figured it wouldn’t be much more than another hour before it was all over. That suited him well enough, the cooking smells making their way through the cavern really were divine. And if he maybe, sort of, missed Yancy’s steady presence, well, he’d never tell.

Raleigh sighed, head lolling back and let his eyes slip closed. He let the quiet conversation wash over him, waves of sound rising and falling in harmony with the hum of the assembled dragons. When the sound – animal, terrified – cracked through the still air, whip-like, Raleigh’s eyes snapped open, limbs twitching in response. His mind took a moment to catch up to his body. For the barest moment he thought it might have been a wherry, but his gut knew it wasn’t true. He didn’t have long to wonder why anyone would be screaming, _like that_ , in the Weyr because a sudden shadow engulfed the stands, and Raleigh froze as he realized he recognized that hide, those claws. And the man cradled in them.

Raleigh sucked in a breath, trying to process. That was Gipsy. That was Yancy. That was Gipsy _carrying_ Yancy. His mind refused to wrap itself around what he was seeing as time turned to molasses around him. Muscles locked Raleigh heard Yancy curse, the words distorted by the wind stirred up by Gipsy’s powerful backwing whipping through the cavern.

The air felt heavy, too thick, and his head spun as time, the fickle bastard, heaved forward, slamming into Raleigh’s chest, as Gipsy _dropped his screaming brother onto the fucking sand._

_**“Gipsy!”**_ he bellowed as he surged forward to vault the railing, landing heavily on the hot sand. Fury was boiling through his veins, warring with the terror that had its claws sunk into his heart. His dragon, his _dragon_ , had just let go of his brother while he was _in the air_ , leaving Yancy to fall onto the unforgiving sand of the Hatching Ground. Fury gained the upper hand as Raleigh saw an egg rock, an egg that could hatch at any moment and hungry, disoriented dragonets would _tear a man apart!_

Sprinting across the sand, thighs burning with the effort, Raleigh was vaguely aware of others following him onto the Ground. Yancy was groaning, pushing himself up onto his elbows. Then his brother froze, eyes going wide, and moments later Raleigh understood why and fear once again ruled him. That glowing golden shell of the queen egg, barely a foot from his brother, was splitting down the middle, as neatly as if were a soft-boiled wherry egg tapped with a spoon. Raleigh skidded to stop, still meters – _too far_ – away. Panting, he wished he dared move forward but he knew that approaching a newly hatched, unImpressed dragonet was idiotic at best and suicidal at worst.

A golden muzzle had appeared, was widening the crack and Raleigh waited, breath caught in his throat, for…something; to watch his brother die bloody, maybe, just out of reach. The dragonet forced her way out of the clinging halves of her shell, flopping gracelessly onto the sands, crying. Raleigh could see Yancy’s eyes track the little queen as she stretched out her damp wings, absolutely still. As the queen swung her wedge-shaped head toward Yancy the last thing Raleigh expected was for Yancy to lock eyes with her, mutter “Oh, fuck.”, and pass out.

“Well, shit.” Chuck whispered next to him and Raleigh spared him a sideways glance as the queen, one hind leg still caught in her shell, strained forward, keening, and lay her head on Yancy’s chest.

“Yeah,” Raleigh agreed, adding silently _‘What the hell happens now?’_

**

Yancy was floating, vaguely aware of voices calling him, but he was warm, cradled here in the dark, so he ignored them. Distant thoughts fluttered here and there, swoops of light in the dark, skittering away when he tried to grab onto them. Yancy found the patterns soothing, they reminded him of…of…something. Somewhere he should be? Yancy let the feeling slip away, lulled by a gentle rocking, like soft waves on a calm sea.

The voices were still there, hovering at the edges of his awareness, refusing to let him rest. One was louder than the rest, deep, familiar and the shrill note of panic in it made him ache. He wanted to reach out, soothe the hurt he heard there so he turned, reaching for the wavering light, fighting to keep hold of it even though it burned, by the gods it burned, searing through him; the sweet, soft darkness replaced by painful brilliance.

Yancy suddenly knew that whatever the voice was saying was important, he needed to hear it, it was vital; if he could just open his eyes, could just get to him, to Raleigh, he had to reach him and Yancy was frantic, screaming, grasping –

\- for Raleigh’s chubby hand, clutching it tightly, sobbing as rough hands held him down and pried his fingers open. Yancy thrashed, fighting the bruising hold they had on him, wanting the terrible, harsh screams to just stop, clenching his jaw and whimpering when he realized it was _him_ making those awful sounds.

The rough wood beneath his cheek was slick with blood, _his_ blood and the thick, choking smell of hot iron made his stomach twist. The jagged glass was wrenched from his neck, scraping against bone and it was agony, icy shards ripping through his veins. Yancy screamed again as the searing cold in his head slammed into and melded with the red-hot claws shredding him to pieces inside.

The tattered wisps of his mind were coming apart, flitting away and there was nothing, _nothing_ holding him together, no reason to stay, not anymore, not now that _she_ was gone, except…except…there was something, someone… _Raleigh_ …but it was so dark, so quiet…the world was dissolving, throbbing at the edges, and Yancy wanted so desperately to stay, for Raleigh, but it was all slipping away, he was falling –

\- tumbling back into the present, to large, warm hands on his face, Raleigh’s voice, thick with tears, pleading “You gotta come back, Yance, please.”

Yancy couldn’t bear to hear that fear in Raleigh’s voice, not ever again. His mind shied violently away from the memory of the last time he heard that kind of desperation in his brother's voice and Yancy didn't try to hold onto it. There was a raw, throbbing ache in his brain but he turned away, shoved it down because Raleigh needed him and though he felt heavy, clumsy, like someone had taken him apart and put the pieces back together wrong he forced his body to obey and opened his eyes.

“Always, kiddo.” he rasped, surprised at how raw his voice was. Raleigh’s eyes flew open and Yancy smiled, strangely pleased that Raleigh hadn’t stopped touching him.

“Gods, Yance, we were so worried! You passed out and - ”

Yancy missed whatever else his brother might have said because an exuberant bugle echoed through the weyr, and his aching head.

“Jaz,” he breathed. Staring at Raleigh he swallowed nervously, hoping to wet his dry throat, before asking “Is she…did I really…?” He had to ask, had to hear it out loud, even though he _knew_ , he could feel her, warm and steady, the soothing sea that had cradled him.

Raleigh sat back, eyes still watery, but smiling brilliantly. Raleigh still hadn’t let go of him, though now he moved one hand, taking Yancy’s.

“Yeah. Yeah, you Impressed,” he said, squeezing Yancy’s hand. “Yancy, I…I thought I lost you.” Raleigh’s eyes were bright with tears he was trying to blink back, eyelashes dark with moisture. Still clutching Yancy’s hand Raleigh wiped his eyes and gave a little laugh, sounding only a little forced.

Yancy’s limbs felt like they’d been hollowed out and filled with lead but he reached out, hand settling heavily on Raleigh’s neck, thumb brushing the hinge of his jaw. Using his wrist to nudge the underside of Raleigh’s chin he got his brother to look at him.

“Never, Raleigh, you hear me? I’ll never leave you, not in this life.” Yancy let his certainty fill his voice – impossible promise or no, it was _true_. He would _make_ it true. Holding his gaze Raleigh nodded. The smile gracing his lips was small, but it was real and Yancy would take it.

Just then a golden head appeared in the doorway of the bedroom – _their_ bedroom – and Jaz’s voice was rolling through his mind.

_I am very sorry, Yancy. We did not mean to cause you pain._ Yancy reached for her, shifting, trying to sit up, even though it made his whole body throb, anxious to reassure the shining queen.

“No, no, it’s not your fault, you don’t need to apologize.” Yancy breathed the words out through the iron band constricting his chest.

Jaz crooned, eyes whirling more slowly, soft tenderness filling his mind. She was joined by a deeper, fuller voice, the dual tones filling the weyr comfortingly. He tried to sit up fully, wanting to touch her, but stopped, gasping, as the banked fire flared in his skull, tongues of icy flame licking down his spine.

_You are hurting! I will get the healer!_ He wanted to tell her no, he was fine, he just needed a minute, but he was finding it a little hard to breathe and Raleigh’s hands were on him, guiding him down and maybe the healer wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all.

When Caitlin bustled through the open door, satchel over her shoulder and steaming urn in her delicate hands, Raleigh didn’t move from his place on the bed and didn’t stop carding a hand through Yancy’s hair when she cast him a considering look. Shaking her head she set the urn down on the bedside table, pulling a mug and various pouches from her bag. As she measured ingredients into the mug she spoke briskly, though not unkindly.

“You’ve had quite a shock, Yancy. Impression at your age takes a much heavier toll on body and mind, and Gipsy’s acrobatics only increased the strain.” She shot a reproving glare in Raleigh’s direction and Yancy couldn’t help but chuckle at the blush rising on Raleigh’s cheeks as he looked suitably chagrined. Clearing her throat Caitlin continued with a bemused grin. “But, thankfully, it’s nothing sleep, rest and good food won’t cure.”

She poured fragrant tea into the mug she’d prepared with a flourish, giving the concoction a brief stir. Leaving the steaming mug to steep she leaned in to adjust the pillows piled behind him. Satisfied with their arrangement she handed the mug to him and Yancy didn’t object when Raleigh’s hand wrapped around his, steadying his grip, the other going to rest between his shoulders, supporting him. Yancy sipped the drink, not fighting the lassitude that settled over him, leaning further into Raleigh’s heat. Blinking, he opened his eyes when he felt Raleigh take the mug from his lax hand, not remembering when he closed them.

“Sleep,” Raleigh murmured, breath gusting hot and damp against his cheek, before his lips were there, dry and warm in a soft kiss. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

_As will I._

Yancy fell asleep feeling Raleigh pressing close against his side, Jaz pressing close against his mind and, in this moment, he was _happy_. He’d deal with the rest later.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! It's finally posted! Many, many thanks to all who've read, commented and left kudos - I hope you enjoy.

**Author's Note:**

> I have changed McCaffrey's Pern cannon a bit. In her cannon all queen riders are female, and all other riders are male, with a very few exceptions.  
> In my headcannon all dragons are equal-opportunity when it comes to choosing a rider, though most queen riders are female, and most bronze riders are male. The rest are about 50/50.
> 
> Any and all questions and comments are welcome, thanks for reading!
> 
> Hope I'm doing justice to both Anne McCaffrey's amazing world of Pern and Guillermo Del Toro's awesome Pacific Rim.


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